


The Ruby Ball

by Lizard501



Series: The Adventures of Basil and Dawson [1]
Category: The Great Mouse Detective (1986)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Attempted Kidnapping, Attempted Murder, Bittersweet Ending, Dawson has a daughter, Family, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Kidnapping, Murder, Murder Mystery, Other Characters Are Shippers, Peril, Possible Character Death, With a little happiness, social event
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:29:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24262123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizard501/pseuds/Lizard501
Summary: Basil and Dawson are invited to a social event thanks to Dawson's daughter Annette. It's just too bad that evil doesn't pause for the detective and doctor.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Series: The Adventures of Basil and Dawson [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2089278
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	1. The Doctor's Daughter

When you spend time living with someone, one is eventually going to learn various aspects of their life from before you began living with them. Basil already had pinpointed many things about Dawson within the first few minutes of meeting him back during the Flaversham case, and Dawson, while slower than the detective, learned more of the mouse’s past cases. One of the many things about Dawson that Basil found piqued his curiosity at times was ‘Little Annie.’ The first time Basil ever heard Dawson utter the nickname was shortly after they tackled the case of the emerald ring, putting the Rat Trap’s piano player behind bars. 

“Well, certainly Little Annie would find some amusement in how that turned out,” the doctor had mentioned as they had sat next to the fireplace. Basil had been playing his violin, raising a brow at the term said by the doctor. It took very little to guess and assume the role this person played in the doctor’s life as well as key aspects of what this person was like. Basil didn’t fail to notice some of the letters Dawson would send out addressed to an Annette Dawson, making it clear to conclude a relative while the address to somewhere out in the country gave an impression of quite some distance. 

Of course, Basil wasn’t going to go reading through Dawson’s personal mail… he already would try to read through the doctor’s journal, but that was another matter. No, Basil took the care to only notice how Dawson’s handwriting seemed to be in less hurry on the envelope address to this Annette. It was almost maddening to resist reading her responses back to the doctor though without informing how curious he was. Annette’s envelopes, while it seemed to have been attempted to keep the outside clean, always had some amount of stain somewhere. Small chalk remains on the bottom right corner or a small ink stain near the postal stamp led Basil to think this Ms. Dawson as possibly an educator, and often in a rush to get through a day. 

The more small comments that the doctor would make, the more curious Basil found himself. Did this Annette look much like his friend? He assumed by her nickname that she was much younger, but by how much? He assumed she was his daughter when thinking over his comments. 

Basil would find his answer one day as he heard a knock on the door while Mrs. Judson was cooking and Dawson sitting near the fireplace writing in his journal. 

“Oh, wonder who that could be,” the shorter mouse asked, looking up as Basil got up to answer. 

“Surely not a case, they tend to call much later,” the detective commented with a bit of humor. Opening the door, the detective blinked as he took in the appearance of a young mouse lady in front of him. 

The first thing was the strawberry blonde hair. Even though it was tied into a ponytail, it didn’t hide the fact of how wavy it was as it framed a round face. Dark brown eyes stared back up at his, and the fur color wasn’t too different from the doctor’s albeit, lighter with cream, almost white markings on her muzzle and tips of her ears. The young lady wore a purple walking coat with a blue skirt, a flower-decorated matching hat for her coat upon her head. 

“Hello,” she said, offering her hand out to which Basil noticing the specks of chalk on the end of the jacket’s sleeves. “I assume this is the residence of Basil of Baker Street and Dr. Dawson?” Basil already could hear his friend behind him getting out of his seat in a hurry, the sound of the journal landing on the floor, and an ‘oof’ from Dr. Dawson being audible. “May I come in?” 

“Ah, yes,” Basil blinked again, focusing on the moment once more. “Yes, please do, Ms. Dawson.” 

Annette Dawson only looked at Basil lightly questioning him knowing her as she entered before her attention was taken by the doctor standing up with a smile. 

“Why, Annette, I didn’t know you were coming by!” Dawson said, hurrying to hug Annette, the mouse in question hugging tightly onto the older one. 

“Oh, I wanted it to be a surprise, Papa! The Raycrafts are in London for the season and Mrs. Raycraft has taken the children for a day with one of the family friends, so I had the day off,” she squealed as she let go from the hug and Dr. Dawson held onto her cheeks. 

Mrs. Judson emerged from her cooking to look at the cause of the commotion, fixing her bonnet. “Dr. Dawson if I may ask, who is this young lady, and will she be joining for lunch?” 

“Oh, of course, of course, I insist if it’s not too much trouble,” Dawson smiled, letting go of his daughter and standing to the side for both Basil and Mrs. Judson. “Mrs. Judson, Basil, may I introduce my daughter, Annette Dawson. Annette, this is Basil of Baker Street as you know, as Mrs. Judson, our maid.” 

Annette bowed slightly before moving and offering her hand out in front of the older mouse woman, who took the hand and had it shaken a great amount. “A pleasure to meet you Mrs. Judson, and you as well Mr. Basil,” she said, offering her other hand to the detective and shaking it as he took it. “Papa mentions quite a lot in his letters to me, it’s very nice to meet you both face to face. And I would be very much grateful for joining for lunch.” 

Mrs. Judson, though taken aback by the aggressive handshake, seemed quite pleased by Annette’s overall attitude, smiling sweetly. 

“Well, we’ll be just as grateful for having you join us. Oh, speaking of lunch, better check back on it!” 

Basil just shook his head before paying his full attention back to Annette herself. “I must say it’s a pleasure to finally put a face to the name ‘Little Annie’ as well.” Annette blushed, giggling silly as she smiled over at a rather embarrassed Dawson. “Mind if I be so bold as to ask if you enjoy your time as a governess?” 

Annette blinked, snapping her attention back to the detective with wide eyes. Dawson arched an eyebrow at his friend’s observation. 

“Now how did you-” 

“The chalk on her sleeves and the mention of children earlier. Quite elementary, dear Dawson. Oh, your coat, Ms?” 

Annette gave another giggle as she took her hat and coat off, revealing a simple white shirt with a small purple bowtie to match the one that held her hair in a ponytail. Basil gave a small nod and went to set both articles of clothing on the coat rack by the door. 

“I see teaching the children geography just as important as reading and writing,” Annette explained, offering a soft smile as she helped Dawson pull up a third chair to join the others. “I can’t keep them safe from becoming lost in life, but at the very least, I can guarantee that they know where they are.” 

“How are those two anyway?” Dawson asked, sitting down next to her and picking up his fallen journal. 

“Hector’s been trying to convince Mr. Raycraft to let him go with his uncle to India. He’s been completely obsessed with the country since I started to teach him and Nora about it.” 

Basil hummed to himself, observing how Annette seemed to constantly talk with her hands waving. “I take it that said Mr. Raycraft objects to the idea of his heir going off into a far off country before he starts school.” 

“Oh very much so! Nora, on the other hand, has it set in mind to teach some of the younger servants of the house to read and write, I’m so proud of her.”

The conversation lasted long after lunch, with Mrs. Judson more than happy to join in and listen to Annette talk about the children she taught and the household she resided in. 

Basil watched his partner’s daughter carefully, noting her extreme movements and talking manners as he mentally listed each observation. The constant movement of her ears and hands, a slight gleam of joy in her dark eyes, the occasional sway of her head from side to side, all noted down in his mind. 

By the time the young lady left, Basil hung back as she waved goodbye, Dawson insistent on walking with her. Mrs. Judson waved the two, reminding both of the Dawsons to take care before softly closing the door and moving to fixing the pillows. 

“Well, I say, Ms. Dawson seems quite a lovely young lady,” the maid said, smiling over to the detective as he went to play the violin. 

“She very much takes quite after Dawson,” he loosely agreed, organizing his thoughts and observations. 

“It’s too bad you didn’t offer to walk her back, Mr. Basil. You too wouldn’t be such a bad looking pair.” Mrs. Judson jumped at the high screech that came from the violin, Basil’s eyes shot wide. 

“... Mrs. Judson, how about you get a cup of tea, hmm?” Basil said, standing up and trying to move the maid out of the room. 

“Wha-?”    
  
“Thank you!” He closed the door, with a stressed smile before letting out a breath and dragged a hand down his face. Moving upstairs to his own room, he picked up his own journal where he listed down mild observations of none case-related people and began writing down his observations from earlier, turning to a page with the words ‘Notes on Annette Dawson’ written at the top. 

‘ _ Notes on Annette Dawson _

  * _Name suggest French origin, nickname is ‘Little Anne’_


  * Clearly a close relative to Dawson, daughter or sister? Daughter to David Dawson


  * Lives in the country. Chalk on envelopes suggest a career as an educator 


  * Confirmed governess for the Rayscraft family


  * Actual meeting: Great similarity to David Dawson, similar fur color aside from markings, similar hair color, same eyes in both shape and color. 


  * Very expressive. Constantly talks with hands and ears moving. 


  * Possibly has quite an extensive memory, already teaches children geography at a young age and found the address without any of her father’s letters in her possession. 


  * Possible age range: 18 at minimum, 20 at most. 


  * Mother: Out of the picture, unsaid. No ring on Dawson suggests either death or divorce. 


  * Either no self-preservation or very confident to walk alone to make a surprise visit. 


  * Calls Dawson ‘Papa.’ More proof of possible french influence.


  * Very messy eater. 



Basil looked over his list, drumming his fingers on his desk. In the back of his mind, he couldn’t help the leering feeling of something bound to happen soon. 


	2. Trouble for the Raycrafts

Annette smiled as she walked with the two children by her side, holding the hand of the dusty pale furred girl with bushy, curly brown hair of seven years. The boy of ten years walked energetically, grinning at his sister as he laughed. Nora Raycraft stuck her tongue out at Hector, earning a slight tug of her hand from Annette.

“ _Nora, c’est très impoli. Que dirait ta mère? Pareil pour toi, Hector. Tu ne devrais pas taquiner ta soeur comme ça_ ,” she said quietly towards both of them. 

“ _Pardon,_ ” They both replied back, Hector moving to take a slight lead as they headed back to the family’s London house. Annette smiled, her other hand trailing to be against a building’s wall as they rounded a corner. She paused, however, her eyes darting to the side as she caught the sight of a mouse just in her peripheral vision. Trying to hurry to two children along, she tried to look back without alerting the children and bit in the inside of her cheek in worry. 

He was clearly following them, his attempts to be subtle poor. His dark blue clothes did little to hide his features, his dark eyes and dark brown busy eyebrows focused on her and the children. Annette’s attention was soon taken by a tug on her hand, the mouse looking to see Nora looking back up at her. 

“Annie?” the green-eyed girl asked. 

“We’re going to take a slight detour,” she whispered, grabbing Hector’s hand and moving quickly through the street. Hector and Nora found themselves running along to keep up with their governess. Annette barely glanced at the names on the street signs as she led the two down various alleyways, whispering the children to the quiet. 

She could hear the footsteps behind them, their stalker trying to keep up with them and failing to keep his footfall silent. Her eyes quickly began to look through each of the alleyways, trying to find something before she quickly made a sharp turn with the children. Nora almost let out a cry before Hector reached over and covered her mouth. Quickly approaching a trash can and a few boxes, the woman lifted the lid off quickly and picked up Nora as she ushered Hector into the can. Handing the smaller child into her brother’s arms, Annette held a finger up to her mouth as she closed the lid to the trash bin and scurried to hide in the tight spaces between the boxes. She was forced to crawl in order to fit, scurrying up her skirt to fully hide as she positioned herself with just a slight glimpse through a tear in one of the boxes. 

She tried to keep her breathing steady as she felt her heartbeat rapidly. She watched their stalker walk into the alleyway, pacing back and forth as he tried to look for a sign of them. Her shoulder tensed as he neared the trash bin, praying that Hector would be able to keep Nora quite long enough. Her hands trembled as she waited for what felt like hours of her life going by until she watched him finally leave, the stalker letting out a curse out of anger of losing his target.

Annette waited a few minutes more to calm herself and to make sure he didn’t come back. Only then did she crawled out of her hiding place, her outfit now covered in smears, dirt, and muck. She stepped lightly as she approached the bin and just as delicately lifted the lid, revealing a tense Hector and clearly scared Nora. 

“ _Ce n'est pas grave. Tout va bien, il est parti maintenant. Il est parti, maintenant. Rentrons à la maison,_ ” she whispered as she picked Nora up when Hector offered the younger child up to her. Nora hugged tightly to her, forcing Annette to hold her with one hand and help Hector out of the bin with the other. 

“Ms. Dawson, who was that mouse?” Hector asked in a whisper as the blonde began to lead them out of the alleyway back to their way home. 

“I don’t know, Hector. I don’t know,” she admitted as she hurried the boy along as she kept carrying the shivering girl. “I just know that his intentions likely weren’t well.” 

\-------

“Good lord,” was what Bettie Rutter the nanny uttered out as she helped clean up to the children’s clothing of the muck and grime. She was a much older mouse than Annette, with graying curly fur. Also in the room was the maid, a small Irish mouse with blue eyes and light blonde curls that went by the name Johanna Cobble, helping both her and Annette, the governess herself wearing a new set of clothing as she helped. 

Sitting in the room listening to the governess and children explained how they came into such a dirty state was Lillian Raycraft, the middle-aged mother holding her hands over her mouth in shock as she let the story sink in. 

“Once again, I am so sorry for bringing the children home in such a state,” Annette apologized, looking pleadingly up at her employer. 

“No, don’t... Don’t apologize, Ms. Dawson, I… You sure didn’t recognize him from somewhere?” Mrs. Raycraft asked, letting her gaze look over protectively at her children. 

“No, not at all. I’m not going to forget that face however… then again I wouldn’t be able to if I wanted.” 

“What would he want with the children and you though?” Johanna asked, looking around at the other blonde. 

“Oh come now, it should be obvious why anyone with ill intentions would want with the young master and mistress,” Bettie hissed. 

“He’s obviously not good at hiding it,” Annette grumbled. 

“Lillian, dear, have you seen Ms. Dawson and the children-” Busting into the room came Lord John Raycraft, the middle-aged mouse looking at the state of the room with confusion. “A bit early for washing, isn’t it, ladies?”

“Observant as always, my lord,” Bettie huffed as she went back to washing. Mrs. Raycraft patted the seat next to her to signal her husband to sit down. 

“The children are in the kitchen with Mr. Bristleworth for treats,” she said, nibbling at her knuckle. Mr. Raycraft looked between her and the servants before sitting down, drabbing an arm over her shoulders. 

“Treats before dinner? Clothing being cleaned before evening fall? What on earth happened?” 

“To make a long story short, Mr. Raycraft, Ms. Dawson here hid the children in a trash bin to get them away from a stalker,” Johanna said bluntly before getting elbowed harshly by the nanny. 

“A stalker?” 

“John dear, should we call the police about it? I mean, if someone was trying to harm or take the children, we have to do something.” 

He looked his wife, tightly gripping her shoulder in a poor attempt in reassurance. 

“Funny thing about that, there’s already someone from Scotland Yard here,” he said, all four women snapping their heads to look at him. 

“What?!” 

“Aside from the timing being quite impeccable, what the bloody hell, oh excuse my language, is someone from Scotland Yard doing here!?” 

“He’s here for Ms. Dawson in fact.” 

Annette blinked as she tried to register this fact. “I’m sorry, what?” 

“It was why I was looking for you and the children.” 

Annette looked at her employer before the other two servants, confusion mirrored between all of them. 

“Oh go on, we can take care of this,” Bettie said, ushering the young mouse to hurry up and follow both of the Raycrafts out into the living room. 

Just outside of the doors leading to the room, the butler Zhao Daliang, an elderly Chinese gerbil waited with a confused glance. “Our guest is very insistent on playing the piano pieces upside down,” he commented towards Mr. Raycraft, who merely took in a deep breath. 

“He is an odd fellow, isn’t he?”

Zhao nodded as he opened the doors, all four rodents flinching at the sound of horrible piano playing. Annette furrowed her brow as she observed the much older, sturdy framed mouse with brown fur and chocolate eyes behind a pair of one of the most ridiculous round gold-colored glasses she had ever seen. The guest looked up from the piano, his eyes blinking at the sight of the four before he seemed to reel in slight embarrassment. To this, Annette then remembered that she still had her sleeves rolled up and a wet apron on, but mentally shrugged as she approached the piano. 

“You wanted to see me, Mr…?” 

“Arthur Ratburn. Mr. Ratburn, this is our governess, Ms. Annette Dawson,” Mr. Raycraft answered, Arthur bowing and taking one of Annette’s hand. As he went to kiss it, the woman went by instinct and shook it, causing Arthur to smack his own nose and reel back in slight pain. 

“Oh, quite sorry about that,” she flinched as she took her hand back. “Have to say you’re timing is quite impeccable, Mrs. Raycraft was just asking if we could call Scotland Yard.” 

“Pardon me?” 

“I’m afraid you’re not pardoned, after all you were the one who came here before anyone notified you.” Annette flicked one of her ears as she heard Zhao hide a laugh through a heavy cough. 

“Well, I believe you should at least tell me then what your case is,” the policeman said as he held his hands behind his back and puffed his chest out. As Annette explained the events of earlier, she took note of his reaction and to say the least found him unnerving. He seemed overall bored by every word she uttered, to the point where she was worried that he wasn’t even listening to her. Once she finished, she folded her hands in front of her, watching him. 

“... Is that really all?” 

“... I...what?” 

“Is that really all, Ms. Dawson? As far from what I can tell, you could have just scared the children over a probable coincidence of someone just walking in the same direction as you.” 

As Arthur Ratburn went on, Mr. Raycraft slowly held his wife close to him, the matriarch of the house clenching her fists tightly and shoulders shaking. 

“I do not consider walking after me and the children into various alleyways and cursing when he couldn’t find us as just a coincidence of walking in the same direction!” Annette yelled, throwing her hands to her sides in fists. 

“Ms. Dawson, and Mr. and Mrs. Raycraft, usually most kidnappers who try to first stalk their potential victims wouldn’t try again after failing to tail them. I highly doubt this... stalker, if you insist on the situation is as such, would try again. Not to mention the matter of identifying this mouse-” 

“Oh I can very much give you a description, Mr. Ratburn! He wore worn leather shoes with soft soles, has a very round, baby-like face with unshaved whiskers that point downwards, smaller than average ears, square-almond dark brown eyes, a short muzzle, dark brown bushy eyebrows, and his fur color is a dusty, dull brown,” Annette huffed, hands on her hips now as she glared at the officer. 

“You expect anyone to believe you remembered all of those details after just one, not even direct, an encounter with this mouse?” 

“I take the fact that my employers do as an answer to that question in of itself, Mr. Ratburn!” 

Arthur took in a deep breath and looked over to the Raycrafts, the missus glaring over at him while the lord himself seemed to be the only thing holding her back. He looked back to a frustrated looking Annette, holding his head high. “I’ll see what can be done, I can’t promise anything more. Now, onto the business of why I came here…” 

Annette held her own head high, glaring at the heavier built mouse still. 

“I actually came to ask you formerly to court you.” 

Her jaw dropped as she registered the sentence in her mind. Mr. Raycraft stopped holding his wife back and began to protest loudly along with her. 

“Now listen here, Mr. Ratburn! I will not allow you to come into my house, disrespect my governess, and just expect to ask to court her as such-!” 

“How DARE you- you, blind bloody fool!” 

Annette turned right around and march out the room, slamming the doors behind her to leave Arthur Ratburn to the anger of her employers. Resting her head against the door as the two’s yelling remained audible, she opened her eyes just slightly to see Zhao, Bettie, Johanna, and the tall, dark brown-furred and blue-eyed cook Bristleworth all looking at her with various degrees of confusion and shock. 

“Good Lord,” Bettie uttered as she sat down in a nearby chair, shaking her head. 

“He’s probably not going to bring the case to the rest of the Yard until you agree, lass,” Bristleworth said, leaning against the wall with a pitying look at her. “Wouldn’t be the first time I saw a mouse with his attitude to try and pull that.” 

“Are the children already upstairs?” Annette asked tiredly, folding her arms. Bettie nodded, her eyes looking up to the ceiling above them. “Good. I’m going to see about heading over to my father.”

“Your father?” Johanna asked, her round ears perked up as her brow furrowed. “Isn’t he the doctor that works with that detective?” 

“And lives with,” Annette added on, letting out an exhausted breath. “I don’t want to run into Mr. Ratburn here if I decided to go to Scotland Yard.” 

“I’ll go with you,” Bristleworth said, moving to lean off of the wall. “If that pox tries something, I rather you’d be just as safe as the kids.” Annette gave a weak smile as she pushed herself off the door and headed down the hall with him. 

“ _Merci_ , Bristle.”

\-----

“And now we’re here and that is what’s happened within the past twelve hours,” Annette finished off, holding the cup of tea her father offered as Basil listened to her, Bristleworth leaning against the back of her chair. 

“First of all, I don’t think I can apologize enough for how you met my brother, Ms. Dawson,” Basil said, drumming his fingers together. 

“Don’t, I rather not make that connection,” she said, rubbed her forehead. 

“Mr. Basil,” Bristleworth began. “Was your brother right in that mentality of this guy likely not trying this again?” 

“It’s not entirely unfounded,” Basil admitted. “Considering the mouse you described following you and the children fits the described of James Wright, it could be a toss-up.” 

“I’m sorry, but who’s James Wright?” Dawson asked, turning to look at his partner. Annette tilted her head and Bristleworth raised a brow as they awaited Basil’s answer. 

“Former member of the Knox ‘clan’, a smuggling gang,” Basil said. “Step-son to the very leader, but since has been disowned. He tried to be an informant for the police,” the detective explained, “but was messy in how he tried to do it and got caught easily. Needless to say, the Knox clan didn’t take to kindly to him trying to sell them and most of the criminal underworld out. And when it comes to having any chance in that type of life, having the backing of the Knoxs is ideal. He’s tried to set himself back up in various careers only to fail. Wright simply is a mouse with big ambitions that wants to do little effort. Him trying to kidnap the children of a Lord? He’d dream of doing it, but it’s a very rough chance of him actually going through with it after failing the first time.” 

“If he does go through with it,” Annette started, biting her lower lip for a moment, “what are the chances of him harming the children?” 

“Unpleasantly high.” 

Annette shivered, Bristleworth placing a hand on her shoulder and Dawson holding her hand. Basil remained seated and thought, assessing the situation. 

“Why don’t we also talk to Mr. and Mrs. Raycraft? Tell them we’ll be more than happy to take the case,” Basil suggested, standing up. 

“Why not during the ball?” Bristleworth offered. Basil perked his ears up as one of his eyebrows raised. “The Lord and Lady hold a ball they call the Ruby Ball during the season here, we could convince them to still host to talk to you and Dr. Dawson here. If this Wright lad has any brain on him and is still willing to try, I don’t think he’d see a party where there’s some form of law officials as a terribly bright idea.” 

“Would the Raycrafts invite officers to this ball?” Dawson asked, earning a small laugh from his daughter. 

“The Lord and Lady are… a bit unusual when it comes to their positions. If it was suggested, I wouldn’t doubt Mr. Raycraft would invite police officers to attend,” she said, clearly a bit more at ease with the thought of this plan. 

“Excellent! We’ll see to getting ready and you to helping the Raycrafts,” Basil said, jumped up from his seat. “Oh, and Ms. Dawson? You wouldn’t remember the street name that leads to the alleyway of which you hid yourself and the children?”

“Oh yes, it was Fleet Street, we took three right and one left from Mrs. Lovejoy’s pie shop there,” she answered immediately, earning a nod from Basil. 

“Thank you very much Ms. Dawson.” 

Once the two guests bid their farewell, Basil lit his pipe and began to smoke as he thought. 

“Dawson, your daughter’s memory is… quite something,” The doctor looked over to his friend, a mix of pride and concern on his face as Basil began to search through his makeshift bookshelves that held various previous cases of his. “I must ask, is she a mnemonist or an eidetiker?”

“A bit of both,” Dawson answered as he assumed Basil was searching for a case that had James Wright involved. “When she was still a child and we realized she had quite an excellent memory, we thought it fitting to encourage her to learn various techniques to keep it up.” Basil looked back at him, seeing his friend slowly rubbing his own hand as he seemed lost in thought. Dawson stood still for a moment before shaking his head and heading over to join Basil’s side. 

“Anything else you can tell of this Mr. Wright?” 

“Oh several things, old chap. Several things,” Basil said as he pulled out one of the journals and flipping through the pages.


	3. Trouble With Wright

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basil gives a bit of background and thought to James Wright, while the troublemaker himself gets a visit.

“James Wright already had his own poor criminal record before attempting to be an informant,” Basil began, showing the journal pages over to Dawson as the doctor pulled out his glasses. “Considering that history, you’d think he wouldn’t try to sell out his own family just from the sheer fact he’d be terrible at hiding it.” 

“But he did, and they disowned him… you said they go by ‘Knox?’” 

“Oh, quite worse, Dawson. The Knoxs didn’t just disown Mr. Wright, they pretty much left him to fend for himself in the underworld. The fact that Mr. Wright is even still alive to cause trouble shows that he’s at least has some sort of skill.” 

“But… Knoxs?” 

“As I said, Mr. Wright is the stepson to the head of that family… As you can imagine, there was never a close relation. However, Wright knew enough that the family offered enough protection to keep him alive until he made his biggest mistake. They certainly kept him alive when he screwed up one of his jobs when he worked under Ratigan.” 

Dawson blinked, his eyes going wide as he looked over at Basil. 

“Basil, are you saying that Ratigan even feared-” 

“Oh good lord, no! Ratigan didn’t fear the Knoxs,” Basil moved along, leaving Dawson to keep looking through the journal as the detective began to light his pipe and walk around the room. “The underworld politics would have made it tricky for him to just get rid of them. Now, back to Mr. Wright. Clearly, he’s dreaming big, but after so long of being quiet now, it seems too big, even for him. It’d be quite easy to assume that he’s desperate. But for what reason is he desperate  _ now _ ?” 

\----

The dark streets seemed empty in the middle of the night, only to be interrupted as a cloaked figure hurried along. Running down the street, the mouse hurriedly looked at the buildings they passed by until they reached what seemed to be an abandoned house, its color as faded as the windows were broken and its bricks were chipped. Walking up to the small, faded wooden door, the figure knocked as they constantly looked around. 

The door opened up a small bit, an eye watching the figure. The figure huffed and pushed against the door. 

“James, it’s me! Let me in, it’s freezing out here!” she said, James groaning at the door handle hit his gut before he could back away. Once inside, the mouse woman took the hood of her cloak down, revealing the barmaid from the Rat Trap as she turned around and place her hands on her hips. 

“Alright, I’m going to try an’ make this quick. James, what the bloody hell are you thinking with whatever plan you have for those children?” 

James Wright blinked before snarling, closing the door and walking towards the makeshift table covered in old, worn blueprints. 

“How do you even know about that, Bertha?” 

“Because if there was anything Father was right about you and your own history tells, you’re terrible at not getting caught by someone, regardless which side of the law they’re on. You honestly think no one who drinks at the Rat Trap wasn’t going to spread the word that you were tailing those children?” Bertha stomped her foot, glaring at her brother. 

“It’s a simple kidnapping and ransom scheme, there’s nothing to worry about. Besides, you can tell everyone else in that stinky pub of your to mind their own buisness,” the man insisted, waving her off. 

“‘Simple’ my arse! Look at this place, it hardly looks like it could keep you well enough, let alone a child! Not to mention you’re going right after the children of a Lord and Lady! And for what reason!? Just simple cash? You’re going to target children just for that?!” 

“Target children just for-?! I’m sorry, little miss righteous, have you forgotten who your previous employer was?! The Napolean of Crime who drowned widows and orphans!? The very damn sewer rat that ‘talks business’ with our psychopath of a stepsister?! Oh, and let’s see about the rest of the Knox family, hmm?!” James held a hand up, counting down each one per finger. “Of course all of them are involved with the smuggling rings, but first there’s Gregory who steals from young heiresses, John who’s mugged and broken debtors legs, Finlay the thief, Fraser the spy, Calem who’s pretty much an assassin, our dear little ‘goody-goody’ thief of a stepmother, and let’s not forget the great step-father of them all, Lachlan, the murderer of the Puppetmocker gang! Oh, and need I mention again the psychopath assassin brute that is our stepsister Evans!?” James growled as he glared at Bertha. 

“And you think doing this will make you better than any of them?” Bertha crossed her arms. “I don’t understand you half the time, James. You go on about how terrible they are, especially Lachlan, for what do they and yet you go along, by your own choice might I add, then constantly try and betray them! And now this!” 

“Coming from you who just ignores it!” 

“Oh, yes, I see how it is, you think Mother could have given two children a decent life all her own right after it turned out Father lied to her and us about our own entire lives and we got cast from society’s eyes? Hmm? Or that I can just as easily reject the family as you did, after the fact that they’ve done no wrong to me and Lachlan tried to raise both of us as his own?” Bertha continued to glare at her brother as he turned his back to her before sighing, gripping her shoulder as she sadly looked on. 

“James, I’m worried about you, especially now. What’s got you all determined to do  _ this _ ? If this goes wrong, you’re not going to have Lachlan’s help to cover your tracks. Heavens, even if this goes right, everyone else who’ve you crossed is already looking for you to mess up at one point to get back.” 

“I’ll be fine,” James managed out, his fists clenching. “This will go right, and before anyone else from the criminal world gets a hold of me, I’ll be in Germany richer beyond imagination!” Bertha took a step back as James turned around to look at her, her eyes narrowing as he went on. “And you can come with me too, Bertha. We can be nobles again, get you a decent husband instead of that dingy barkeep.” 

Bertha found herself glaring at him again as she gripped a hand around the wedding band on her other hand. 

“I am perfectly happy with Lucian. And being Briar’s mother, AND running the Rat Trap.” She found herself taking a step back as James’s dark eyes hardened. 

“So go back to that dirty hole in the ground then! Don’t see why you bothered coming here if you’re just going to chaste me and refuse a better life!” he yelled as he began to approach her. She gripped her cloak and headed out the door, running through the streets into the night. James growled as he remained in the doorway, gripping the door harshly before slamming it. Looking around at his current dwellings, the mouse felt his shoulders lower as his glare lessened. 


	4. The Ruby Ball

Basil and Dawson approached the London home of the Raycraft family, using Toby as their transport. The poor doctor stumbled a bit as he got off the dog, holding a hand to his head as he tried to regain his balance. Basil patted Toby, looking at Dawson pitifully before heading on inside. 

Inside, the two mice were greeted by the grand sight of the main hall and small crowd that greeted them. Among that crowd turned out to be a familiar sight. 

“Brother.” 

Basil gave a blank expression as he gazed up at Arthur, keeping his hands behind his back. He could practically hear Dawson’s head turn to stare at the gold-glasses wearing mouse. 

“Arthur. Surprised to see you here, from what I’ve heard.” 

“He’s here to apologize to Mr. and Mrs. Raycraft for his behavior a few days ago,” a voice interrupted, all three men looking to see another mouse with a dark mustache and long coat. 

“Inspector Dolan,” Basil responded tensely before clearing his throat. “Dawson, this is Conan Dolan, an inspector at Scotland Yard. Inspector Dolan, this is Doctor David Dawson.” 

“You don’t introduce your friend to your own brother, Basil?” Arthur said coldly, earning a forced grin from Basil. Before the detective could give an answer, the doctor spoke up in a clearly disapproving tone. 

“Annette gives a very accurate description, you’ll find.” 

‘ _ Oh bloody hell _ ,’ Basil thought, still forcing the grin on his face but now for a different reason. Arthur raised a brow looking at Dawson’s appearance. 

“You’re the father to Ms. Dawson, correct?” 

“Yes, and no, I do not give your my blessing to even attempt to court her.” 

Dolan’s and Basil’s eyes met briefly as Arthur began to retort, both mice quickly leading the other two away from each other. 

“Why don’t we go ahead and find the Raycrafts-” Basil began, leading Dawson to the next room as Dolan lead Arthur to grab some refreshments. “-And hopefully not start another, if brief, case to solve, old chap?” Dawson gave a small huff before taking in a deep breath. “I’m sure you two can solve the matter out at a later date.” Looking around for one of the servants, Basil also took the time to make sure to see if he recognized any of the other faces in the crowd. 

“Psst!” Both turned to see Annette waving from the next room, urging them to come with her. “Raycrafts are in here!” 

Making their way towards the woman, she made a quick look around, biting her lower lip. “That inspector fellow, Dolan? He insisted on bringing Mr. Ratburn so that he could apologize to the household in person. Apparently, Mr. Raycraft and Mr. Dolan used to be old chums, so Mr. Ratburn’s behavior was… well…” Annette made another quick look around the corner. “He’s also been insisted on apologizing to me as well. If you could call it that…” she went on as she led the two to the Lord and Lady of the house. “Sir? Ma’am?” 

Basil looked at the two, blinked as he took in their appearances. Obviously, they were dressed well for their own party but distressed oozed from their every movement. 

“Oh, Mr. Basil! Mr. Dawson! Thank you so much for coming!” Mr. Raycraft gave a very tired smile.

“Ms. Dawson, could you see if the children are done getting ready?” Mrs. Raycraft asked, Annette smiling tiredly and nodding before heading out of the room. Mrs. Raycraft sighed and looked towards the other two mice. “It’s good to meet both of you, though I wish it’d been in a better circumstance.” 

“Oh quite alright, Ma’am, it’s rare to meet anyone in better circumstance in our line of work,” Basil quickly recovered, nodding. “Now, about your particular case, the culprit himself fits the description of a Mr. James Wright, he already has quite a record on him-” 

“Basil, you of all people should know that Wright disappeared quite some time ago,” Arthur Ratburn interrupted, Inspector Dolan behind him facepalming. “And that Wright very well fits the description of a criminal that wouldn’t proceed to finish something when failing once.” Basil grinded his teeth, his hand shooting out instinctively as Dawson seemed ready to take a step towards his brother. 

“Disappeared, yes. Dead, no. And I think  _ you _ should be informed that these past few days, I’ve taken the liberty to check on key sources. Sources that also say that Wright has been seen about the East End in the past few weeks. Inspector, you’d agree that when a criminal disappears for so long and then pops up again, it’s a sign he’s desperate?” Dolan nodded, harshly elbowing Arthur in the side with a tight expression. 

“And as a father myself, I should say that telling someone to simply not worry after there’s been a chance of someone’s child being in danger is quite-” for Dawson could continue his part of digging into Arthur’s action, the group was interrupted by a young boy’s voice. 

“Mother! Father!” 

Hector descended the stairs in a small pink suit to join the crowd, a smile on the lad’s face. The adults turned to look at him, the young boy walking up to them. 

“Where’s your sister?” Mr. Raycraft asked as Mrs. Raycraft leaned down to hug her son. 

“Annie went to see if she needed help after she helped me with my bowtie,” Hector sheepishly said, looking down to adjust the said dark pink tie. Looking back up at the adults, the boy smiled widely. “Oh, you’re Annie’s dad, right? She said you served in the army in Afghanistan, did you get to see the city of Balkh?! Did you see the Bamiyan Valley with the Buddha Niches too!? What about Bala Hisser?!” 

Dawson blinked at the boy’s rapid question, having thought that he’d be more interested in Basil or the Scotland Yard mice. 

“Hector!” Mrs. Raycraft frowned. 

“Oh, it’s quite alright, Mrs. Raycraft,” the doctor said, Basil eyeing Arthur’s reaction instead as his brother narrowed his eyes. Dawson smiled at the boy, offering his hand out to shake. “Yes, I was in the military, although I’m afraid I was a bit busy patching up others to really appreciate the sights. I did however see part of the Bamiyan Valley. I’m sure Annette’s shown you a few photographs I’ve sent her during my time there.” Hector’s eyes brighten as his smile reached his eyes. 

“Please tell me you haven’t sent any from India,” Mr. Raycraft looked more in dismay as he seemed to assume where his son had been getting ideas of travel from aside from the governess. 

“Only a few maps at Annette’s request before she was a governess.” 

Basil felt a smile grow on his face at Dawson’s honesty and Hector’s obvious enthusiasm. 

That was until everyone’s head jolted as a loud scream echoed through the manor.


	5. The Raycraft Tragedy

Several mice ran up the stairs, Basil leading the way as the group reached in the top. Dawson nearly ran into the detective as Arthur and Dolan struggled to get past Mr. Raycraft as the Lord looked around rapidly. 

“Which room did it come from?!” 

“What are the chances that it didn’t come from this Ms. Nora’s room?!” 

“Which way is that, Mr. Raycraft?” Basil asked, only to be answered by the mouse in question running past him to a door at the end of the upstairs hallway. The rest of the group desperately followed him as he swung open the door. The detective barely noted how Mr. Raycraft’s face paled as he took in the sight that befell the group. 

Annette Dawson was hunched over, her forehead covered by parts of her hair, the chef Bristleworth, the larger mouse grinding his teeth in pain as the woman pressed her now bloodstained hands into a spot on the other’s chest. A dagger, also bloodstained, laid nearby, the rest of the room in disarray, and the window opened. Basil took in a deep breath before grabbing Arthur and Dolan by the shoulders. Dawson, in turn, rushed to his daughter’s and the chef’s side, taking his jacket up quickly to help apply pressure to the wound. 

“Mr. Raycraft, if you or one of your servants could bring me some linen wrappings and thread!” the doctor called out. 

“While the household does that, Arthur, Inspector Dolan, if we hurry enough we might catch Mr. Wright and retrieve the young Ms. Raycraft from his grasp,” Basil said, quickly leading the way back downstairs and to the outside. “We’ll take Toby!” 

\---

She whimpered as she kept hitting her fists against her captor, trying to put all of her might into each blow. Her dress was already ruined with mud and specks of blood, none of it her own. Her mind went briefly to Mr. Bristleworth. Wasn’t it just a few days ago he’d given her and Hector treats to help them feel better? Was he alright? And what about Ms. Dawson? She had barely seen her captor throwing something at her. Had it been another knife? She gave out another whimper as she struggled. 

“Quiet, you brat!” he hissed, adjusting his hold on her to cover her mouth. She barely had any idea of where they were now, the sight of her home long lost. But maybe… just maybe if she ran into someone for help once she got away? 

She struggled once more, just enough to allow her to bite the hand that had been covering her mouth. 

“Yeoch! Why you little-!” He yelled out, throwing her off of him instinctively. She felt herself fly through the air, feeling a small bit of triumph in her small body as she was no longer in his grasp. 

The impact into the wall quickly snapped her out of that, the grown-up’s cursing at her fading away into mindless noise as she landed on the ground. A hand struggled to press against the ground, shaking as she tried to pick herself up. The mindless noise seemed to grow softer as her eyes began to feel heavy, something in the back of her mind feeling mushy as the darkness rapidly grew harder and harder to resist. 

\----

“Come on boy, come on!” Basil ushered, the three mice on Toby as the dog followed the scent of the culprit. “We’ll get find Ms. Raycraft yet!” Dolan struggled to stay on the running dog’s tail, sheer terror expressed on his face as Arthur’s fingers dug into the hound’s fur to hang on. 

“Aha! There!” The detective let out, gesturing towards a fleeing shadow that could be seen. Toby barked loudly running to catch up to the shadow before stopping in front of a trash can. “What are you doing?” Basil asked, tugging on the dog’s leash. Toby whined as he sniffed the area. Basil’s brows furrowed as he heard Dolan landing on the ground, moving to investigate around the bin. 

Basil watched as Inspector Dolan’s ears lowered before he leaned down, picking something up from behind the bin. Turning up to face the others, the police-mouse gazed up at them, the small mouse girl in his arms unmoving. The detective stared on, his shoulder shagging as he felt Arthur flinch him. 

“Well… we did find her,” Dolan softly said, reaching an arm out to get Toby to lean his head down. Moving closer to show the brothers, holding the girl’s body carefully. Basil leaned and looked over, moving back a few strands of Nora’s curly brunette hair, Arthur looking back and over Basil’s shoulder with tense shoulders. Basil took in a deep breath before tightening his grip on Toby’s leash. 

“You should get her back home.” Arthur surprisingly was the one who managed to say the next line towards Dolan, jerking his head back towards the direction that they came from. 

“We’ll keep tracking Wright. He can’t have gotten far.” Basil gave a sharp nod, tugging on Toby’s leash to get back onto the chase. Dolan remained where he was briefly, watching the dog carry to two off towards the direction the shadow from before had fled to before making his way back to the Raycraft house. 

\---

In the meantime, James Wright was panicking as he ran through the streets, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. He didn’t dare to look around at his surroundings too closely, instead focused on finding some way up to the rooftops as the sound of the hound echoed in both the streets and his mind. He felt his jaw clench as he thought on once more using those rooftops he hated to escape his mistake. 

Spotting a drainpipe, he scurried quickly, unaware if the pounding he felt was the footsteps of the dog and the law coming after him or the adrenaline and fear running through his veins. He quickly dove into the bottom entrance, his hands clawing at the metal to help himself climb up. 

It felt like an eternity to get to the top, his feet constantly slipping due to the flow of rainwater in the pipe. His breath would get caught in his throat each time he was forced to rely upon the strength in his arms during those various times. By the time he reached the top, his hands were shaking and already bleeding from both the abuse and his victim’s bite, the mouse making sure to keep crunching down even in the roof gutter as he heard the howl of the hound below on the ground. 

_ His victim’s bite on his hand… _

He kneeled in the water that remained in the gutter he was hiding in, his eyes just starting to focus on the bite marks on his hand that had just a few moments before tried to muffle the girl’s whimpers, blood still bleeding from them. The same hand that had tossed that same girl into the wall. His shoulders shook as the events replayed through his mind. He lifted a hand to cover his own whimpering, a mistake to make as he winced upon trying to support all his upper weight on his wounded hand. As he fully hunched over just barely above the rainwater, he felt tears run down his cheeks and fall. 

He knew full well what awaited him should the law catch him now. He knew he now couldn’t hide like he been these past few years. Kidnapping and ransom? Wright could be given some thought to the chance of just prison. But murder, even if accidental? He’d get the noose. 

_ If he was lucky. _

He lifted his head as he heard the clear sound of the hound now, the howling waking him up from his mind. He scurried, clenching his jaw to not cry out in pain as he put pressure on his wounded hand to hoist himself up over the rooftops to his hideout. He shivered, but not from the cold air that greeted him. He needed to keep going with his plan, even if he had failed at first.

And this time, he couldn’t afford to have it fail as this time had. Not when he knew full well what would await him if it did.

He needed to survive long enough to get out of England. 

\---

By the time the brothers returned back to the manor, without any trace of having gotten Wright, Basil immediately went to see Dawson and get an update on everything. He found the doctor in the chef’s bedroom, the taller mouse laying in his bed as Dawson seemed to be tending to Annette in a nearby chair. The young woman was wincing as her father finished the stitches on her forehead. 

The detective looked on tiredly, his arms in his pockets as he waited for his friend to finish, letting his eyes stray to observe Bristleworth. He found the other’s blue eyes staring back at him, warily with a fist over his stomach. 

“There,” the doctor let out, finishing his work. Annette let out a sigh before looking up and seeing Basil in the doorway. 

“... Basil,” she let out, giving a half-hearted smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes before it fell. “Inspector Dolan brought Nora’s…” 

“I’m aware,” the detective interrupted, clenching his fists in his pockets before looking back towards Bristleworth. “How are you both?” 

“I’ll live, laddie,” the chef said, trying to move to sit up before he was stopped by both of the Dawsons. 

“The item Wright threw at you, Ms. Dawson, what was it?” Annette looked over, allowing Basil to fully see her redden eyes, clearly from crying. 

“A music box. It was kept by the window,” she answered, her voice soft but hoarse. Dawson leaned over to hold her hand, his brows pressed up in sorrow. “I came into the room just in time to see him trying to carry Nora out the window, Bristleworth on the floor with the knife… I barely had time to let out a scream before that… that…” Basil flinched as the governess broke down crying in her father’s arms, clearly from the wet spots on his friend’s shirt not the first time she had done so. 

Basil pushed himself against the door frame and walked closer, placing a hand on Dawson’s shoulder. “I wish to speak to Mr. Bristleworth alone for a moment, would it be possible for you and Annette to..?” he trailed off upon Dawson’s nod, the chubbier mouse slowly standing up to help lead the crying strawberry blonde out of the room. 

Basil moved the stool the former had been using before, placing it closer to the bed and sitting down. Bristleworth eyed him, his own brows furrowed at the other’s expression towards him. 

“Phillip Bristleworth, correct?” 

“What does my name have to do with-” 

“You never changed your name from your time working for Ratigan.” The chef glared at Basil as the shorter mouse took his pipe out. “Your reaction to hearing James Wright having been the culprit when you went with Ms. Dawson to Baker Street. Clearly, the years have left your impression of him rusty, but you clearly recognized his name.” 

“Alright, lad,” Bristleworth growled, a fist clenching. “So I cooked for the Professor. What about it?”

“Did Wright recognize you when he stabbed you?” 

The silence grew between the two, blue eyes and green eyes staring at each other before the wounded one sighed and leaned his head back against the pillow. 

“Naw,” came his reply. “He seemed more shocked that anyone came up at all. But recognize someone who he considered under him? Pfft, the lad would never. Besides, I went to cook for the Professor’s brother after two years Wright started working in the crew. He wouldn’t have seen much of me to begin with.” Basil’s ears perked up before he mentally shook his head to focus on what he needed to know. “Why ye ask, lad?” 

“I ask because it occurs to me that Wright could possibly try and use one of the Professor’s old hideouts as his base.” 

“Pfft! After the trouble he caused?” 

“Wouldn’t he? As some form of revenge against Ratigan?” 

Bristleworth’s sneer slowly fell before he clenched his jaw and eyes tightly, slamming a fist onto the side of his bed. 

“That pup of a wagon,” he growled. “Using one of the Professor’s places in his absence…” 

“Would you have an idea of any Wright would use? And think carefully, Bristleworth. I doubt he’ll just try to disappear after this is he’s become desperate to try to kidnap a noble’s daughter. It’s likely he’ll try to go after young Hector as well.” 

Something flashed dangerously across the chef’s eyes at the last sentence, a violent breath escaping from him. “Get me a map and I’ll circle the places I know that pox would know about,” he growled. 

\----

“So you understand why I insist on having police officers guarding the house?” Inspector Dolan finished, sitting across from the family and other servants. Mr. Raycraft nodded solemnly, young Hector now currently being held close to his mother. The rest of the servants of the household hung back near the entrance of the room, Johanna twisting a tear-stained napkin in her grasp, sniffling as her curly hair was stroked by Bettie, the nanny staring off blankly as she mindlessly tried to comfort the maid. Zhao stood by the door, his tired gaze conflicting with the tight grip he held his white gloves in, threatening to rip the fabric. Annette was drying her eyes with a handkerchief, Dawson still wrapping around her tightly. 

Basil emerged nearby, a piece of paper in his grasp as he took in a deep breath. Eyes turned to him, the detective forcing his expression to remain calm. 

“Mr. Raycraft, erm... Mr. Hector Raycraft, as well as the officers guarding the household, I’d advise you to constantly stay with at least two adults at all times.” 

“Mr. Basil, what is that?” Dolan narrowed his eyes at the piece of paper in the detective’s hand. 

“All the possible locations Mr. Wright could have tried to use to go into hiding, before process of elimination, of course,” he explained as he walked through the room. 

“How would Bristleworth-?” Annette began to ask quietly before pausing, her eyes going wide. Basil observed for a brief moment before moving on. 

“He should be in stable enough condition, correct, Dawson?” 

“As stable as I could get him,” he replied, moving to stand up and face the rest of the room. Basil briefly took notice of Annette slipping out of the room while her father’s back was turned, heading towards the room the chef resided in. 

“If his or Annette’s condition changes, send word immediately,” Dawson spoke softly, sympathy clear in his tone. 

“We’ll be sure to do the same about any word on Wright,” Basil added before looking around the room, his brows narrowed briefly before Dolan leaned over. 

“If you’re looking for Arthur, he’s outside on the steps.” The detective nodded briefly, moving on to the front of the house. 

There, the older Ratburn brother sat as the Scotland yard inspector said he was, hunched over as he fiddled with his hands. He looked up as Basil didn’t hide his footsteps, the detective now once more donning on his jacket as he sat down beside him. 

“Basil.” 

“Arthur.” 

Thick silence placed itself between the two, neither looking at each other as they both waited for the rest of the mice inside to be done for now. Basil watched the rooftops of London that were in his sights, wondering if any of the old hideouts of his old foe was being used now to watch them back. He heard Arthur shift in his place, the older one covering his face with his hands. He took in a deep breath, hunching over as well as he gave a low sigh. 

“I shouldn’t have just so easily dismissed this,” he heard Arthur muttered. 

“If you’re looking for someone to tell you that you’re wrong, Arthur, I’m not the mouse for that.” 

“Do they know that given the circumstance of all of this, the girl’s death wasn’t-?” 

“On purpose? What would that really change?” 

Arthur fell back into silence, his hands moving over each other in circular motions. It almost took Basil by surprise by how familiar he was with the motion, having done the same when he was deep in thought. The two remained there, sitting on those steps as Basil waited for Dawson to exit the manor. He took out his pipe, starting to smoke once more as he went back to thinking and gazing at the city around them, already working on mentally going through the list of hideouts that remained in his coat. 


	6. Chapter 6

Dawson’s eyes were narrowed as he looked at the map Basil had pinned to the wall, several red X’s and circles in various places marked. 

“Mr. Bristleworth was Ratigan’s chef?” he muttered, one of his hands clenched at the thought. Basil didn’t pay much mind, instead still adding X’s in some of the circles. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t be too hard on him, Dawson old boy. Out of anyone in Ratigan’s old crew, he was probably the most innocent. Besides, with Ratigan’s pattern back then, Bristleworth wouldn’t have been involved with any big crime schemes, if any at all. Especially if he was trusted enough to work for the Professor’s brother.” Basil didn’t fail to notice his friend’s confused expression, though the doctor’s following words did give him pause. 

“Colonel Ratigan had a cook, not a chef.” 

“Pardon?” He looked at the blonde, a brow raised. “You knew…?” 

“Lieutenant Colonel Sebastian Ratigan. He was quite distressed whenever Professor Ratigan made headlines in the papers our unit would receive.”

Basil remained quiet for a moment before physically shaking his head. “We’re getting off-track! Now, Wright is sure to be both cocky and foolish enough to use a safe house that the Professor used to have. Though probably would be cautious enough to avoid any that the Knoxs would know of..” he stepped back from the map to look at the remaining locations. “We know he was heading towards the East Ends judging by the direction he ran with Ms. Nora.” Thinking for a moment, the detective nodded with a smirk. 

“Dawson, I believe it’s time to go scouting once more with Toby!” 

Dawson took in a deep breath, already trying to mentally prepare him for the ride. 

\----

Hector frowned, keeping still as Annette continued to help wash his face with a washcloth. The young mouse gave a slight glance over to his nanny as the much older mouse worked on her needlework. 

“Is your head still hurting?” he asked, looking up at the stitches that his governess still had. Annette paused, her small smile still clearly forced. 

“Not really. Besides, it’s rather minor in comparison,” she answered, leaning back as she finished. “... In comparison to everything.” 

Hector continued to frown, keeping still as he looked up at Annette, the sight breaking the governess’s heart severely. Like his sister, the boy hadn’t known of how cruel the world could truly be even with how smart he was as a student until now. If Nora’s death hadn’t been enough, it was highly likely that both herself and Bettie would leave the family’s service by fall due to him being of school-age now, and even with her father’s medical help, Bristleworth wasn’t out of danger from his wound completely. Hector would be suffering a lot of losses in his life, and Annette found herself clueless and feeling useless to how to help in the situation. 

“Come on, how about I read you a story?” she offered, giving a very weak smile. She got one in return before the boy hugged her immediately, his hands clinging onto her shirt. She closed her eyes tightly and hugged back before picking him up and walking with Bettie out of the room to upstairs 

\----

Dawson wobbled as he tried to regain his balance from the ride on Toby, Basil already peering around the corner. This time, both mice were quite well disguised as thugs, much better than the hurried disguises used for trying to catch Ratigan, as they stayed in the street around the Rat Traps. Just outside the door to the bar, a group of other mice were talking in hush tones. 

“You don’t really think they’d do it, do you?” one mouse asked. 

“Oh, I’m sure of it. Apparently, he almost got violent when talking to Bertha.” 

“No! His own sister?” 

“I’m telling you lads,” one of them says. “James is asking for a beating at least. Those Knoxs even know where he lives.” 

“Where! Where!” 

“One of the Professor’s old hideouts near the park,” another shrugged, passing by the hidden and disguised detective and doctor. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, now, don’t go on thinking of getting back at him for any wrong he did to you lads! The Knoxs get first rights if the law doesn’t get him first!”

“Sure, if he doesn’t try anything any time soon.” 

“And there is it,” Basil whispered, waiting for the figures to disappear into the darkness. “There’s only one hideout the Professor had near the park on the East End. James Wright is as good as got. No doubt the Inspector will be pleased.” 

\----

Annette hurriedly looked through the study, knowing full well that Mr. Raycraft kept at least one in the room. She could still hear Betty calling for the officers and the running feet of the rest of the household, but by the time everyone was aware of what was going on, it’d be too late for her charge. Pulling out the drawers, she gave a short sigh of relief upon finding what she was looking for, snapping the barrel of her employer’s gun open to check the bullet number. Six. It’d have to be enough. 

Running out of the study and towards the backdoor, she picked up her skirt and ran through the streets in the direction of her foe, her dark eyes narrowed as she called the direction he ran in.    
  
She couldn’t save Nora, but Annette would never forgive herself if she couldn’t save Hector.


	7. Wright's End

“What!?”

“Please, I think Ms. Dawson also went after them! The Inspector and some of the coppers already went to search but…” Johanna’s squeaky voice trembled as she shivered in front of Basil. 

The detective heard Dawson take in a shaky breath as he looked quickly around the house. Spotting a familiar purple walking coat he grabbed it, once more taking note of the chalk on the sleeves as confirmation of its owner. 

“Mr. Basil-?” Johanna began right as the detective ran back to Toby. Dawson already was climbing back up onto the canine’s back as Basil lifted the coat up. 

“Toby!” he called out. He held onto the coat tightly as the hound sniffed it. “Got the scent? Good!” He climbed onto the collar, before patting Toby on the side of his head. “Not a moment to lose, boy, get ‘em!” 

The maid stood in the doorway, shivering as she watched the dog bolt down the street with the doctor and detective on his back. She slowly slumped down to the floor onto her knees as the hound’s barks echoed into the thick night. A small whimper escaped from her throat. Her blue eyes turned skywards and quietly prayed that this time, they’d make it. 

* * *

He gritted his teeth as he fell onto the ground, cupping the area that the young lad had just kicked. The sound of the chair scratching along the floor barely reached his ears as he struggled back up. Rising up to his elbows, he shot a hand out onto one of the chair’s legs, glaring up at the tied boy to it. 

Hector struggled against his bonds, trying to tilt the chair James Wright had tied him to away from the kidnapper. 

“You little brat-!” Wright growled in the darkness. Hector held his breath at the feeling of metal against his fur, his shoulder tensing up as Wright got back onto his feet. The older mouse began to drag the chair and boy back into the corner of the house. The villain huffed as he pulled the gun away from the gun’s head but kept it aimed at him, moving backwards to the table in the center of the room. 

Panting, Wright leaned against the table as he kept his dark eyes on the boy. He took in deep breaths as he adjusted his grip on the gun. The wrappings on his hand were messy looking by now, unraveled by the struggle with Hector. He began to grind to teeth as the sound of a hound barking reached his ears, his dark eyes looking towards the door as it soon flung open. With his gun still aimed at the boy, he glared at the detective and doctor. 

“James Wright,” Basil began, raising a hand slowly as soon as the glint of the gun in the kidnapper’s hand was in clear view and pointed at the boy. 

“Now, now, place the gun down… there’s no need for that…” Dawson said as he began to take a step forward. Both froze as the click echoed through the room. 

“Oh no, no, this… this is necessary,” Wright said slowly. “I’m leaving England a free, living mouse, Basil,” he continued as Hector whimpered in the corner, shaking in his spot as he looked around the room. 

“Good Lord, Wright, if you had just let go of your pride, you wouldn’t have had to cause all of this trouble,” Basil huffed before his shoulders tensed up again as Wright gripped the gun tighter. The scruffier mouse stood up straight, walking to remain between the detective, doctor, and child with his sides to them. 

“Careful with that tongue of yours, detective,” he sneered. 

Basil’s green eyes darted from Wright, to the gun, to Hector. The boy was still tense in his seat and tied, but his attention was elsewhere. Basil briefly followed his gaze to another dark corner by a small, open window. Furrowing his brow, the detective looked back to Wright, taking in a deep breath and returning his hand back to his side. 

“You can’t honestly want to harm the boy!” Dawson let out before Basil held his arm out to stop him. 

“I think I’ve shown myself quite capable of putting kids in harm's way, doctor.” 

“But Nora wasn’t intentional, was it, Wright?” 

Wright stood still as he looked back to Basil. His brows furrowed as confusion set into his face and his arms shook at the question. Basil eyed the bandaged hand before Wright moved it into the inside of his coat. 

“Nora Raycraft… the blood on her teeth and your hand are proof that she fought you when you attempted to kidnap her. She bit you, you lost your temper and threw her against a wall. And you do know well enough the sentence of murder, especially that of a child, don’t you Wright? Your time with your family and the cops made you well acquainted with the consequences… and you’re obviously desperate. You are, indeed a fiend,” the detective said as he kept preventing Dawson from taking a step forward while he stretched out his other hand again towards Wright. 

The criminal was taking in deep, shaky breaths, looking more at the ground than meeting the detective’s eye. 

“You’re a thief, a kidnapper…” Basil paused, his ear twitching at the sound of a click. “But you don’t have the character of a murderer.” He took in a deep breath as Wright lifted his head to look at him. “So if you’d just put the gun down, Wright…”

He winced as Wright raised the gun up once more. This time, however, the dark-eyed mouse pointed the gun towards the attempted rescuers. 

“I’m not a killer, huh? You really want to make a bet on that?” Wright’s grip on the gun tightened, his finger threatening to press further on the trigger just as the sound of a shot echoed throughout the room.

Dawson grabbed Basil’s arm to pull him aside and onto the ground while Hector let out a frightened yell from his corner. Basil’s green eyes, however, were focused on James Wright’s face. The criminal’s bark brown eyes were wide and empty now as the gun slowly slipped out of his grip. He fell back to lean onto the table before slumping down onto the floor. The red spot in the middle of his chest grew as his blood continued to stain his clothes. Basil stared on for a moment longer before looking towards the shooter as she dropped the gun. Dawson lifted his head and hurried up to check on Wright, only to do a double-take at the newest party. 

“Annie!” Hector cried out. 

The governess in question was shaking, her hair a mess, and her skirt covered in muck. The boy’s voice seemed to snap her out of her gaze towards the now dead body, prompting her to hurry to the tied-up child. 

“Hector!” she cried out as she began to untie the boy. Basil nodded towards Dawson as the doctor looked for the briefest moment conflicted. Dawson sighed in some relief before joining the two, helping to check on the boy’s physical health. 

In the meantime, Basil looked over at Wright’s limp corpse, kneeling down to shut the mouse’s eyes. He remained still for a moment, kneeling there as the sound of Annette fussing over Hector went on, the sound muddled to the detective until he turned his head to look at the gun that Annette had dropped. Picking it up, he took note of the carved initials ‘ _ J.R _ .’ upon the revolver’s handle.

“Impeccable timing, Ms. Dawson,” he commented, getting the others’ attention. Annette held Hector close in her arms, her chocolate eyes scrunching up as she stood up. Hector clung onto the governess, looking over at the detective. 

* * *

As the priest gave his sermon, Basil found it was taking all he could muster to ignore Arthur’s muttering. He gave a sharp look towards the mouse, earning a sigh from the older Ratburn brother. 

“Wish there was a happier ending to this,” Arthur muttered. Basil found himself only able to nod as they continued to stand on the sidelines, watching the Raycraft family and household that surrounded the funeral for the young girl. Dawson remained by his daughter’s side as the young woman wiped the tears away from her eyes that her dark brimmed hat hid. 

As Basil took out his pipe to smoke from, Arthur leaned over to whisper further to him. 

“Is she aware that she gave him quite the mercy?” 

“Oh I highly doubt it,” Basil answered before raising a brow towards his brother. “As highly as I’d think it’d be better to not tell her your own little mistake.” 

Arthur gave him a side glare, his brow narrowing. Taking in a deep breath, he forced himself to continue observing the funeral crowd. 

“I already heard enough from Dolan about not taking this seriously-” 

“I was actually talking about you thinking she was the Raycrafts’ daughter.” Basil returned Arthur’s side glare with a raised brow. “After all, why else would you be asking to court a governess if you hadn’t been just trying to save face from the embarrassment of being wrong? Granted, given the similar face markings both Lady Raycraft and Ms Dawson have- oof!” He held the back of his head, rubbing where Arthur had used his tail to smack the detective.

He sent a short glare to his older brother before the sound of someone clearing their throat took his attention. Looking back to the crowd, he stood up straighter upon seeing Lord. Raycraft in front of him. 

“Lord Raycraft,” he said, nodding his head. The middle-aged mouse nodded in return. 

“I wanted to thank you, for everything…” Mr. Raycraft began. 

“Oh there no need for that,” Basil insisted, shaking his head. “I take it that you and the family will be heading out of London?” 

The Raycraft patriarch nodded his head as he looked over to the rest of the crowd. The detective followed his gaze to where Dawson and Annette were talking with Mrs. Raycraft. Hector clung to the governess, refusing to break the tight hug. 

“We'll keep Hector at home, until the next school year. Sending him off to school after this just… My boy needs to heal. We all do.” Mr. Raycraft looked down at the ground, the wrinkles around his eyes becoming clear as his brows scrunched up. 

Basil looked down before placing his hands behind his back as he continued to smoke from his pipe. His eyes went briefly to the rest of the crowd, watching as Johanna helped Bristleworth with standing up while the chef gave Ms. Rutter a slip of paper. The detective’s green eyes narrowed slightly as he watched the chef’s talk to the nanny, reaching an arm out to pat her on the shoulder. He squinted before his attention was taken by Dawson approaching him, the doctor tipping his hat to Mr. Raycraft as the patriarch of the family went to join his wife. 

“Annette will be staying with them until young Hector’s sent to school… what were you looking at, Basil?” the shorter mouse asked, tilting his head as he observed the other’s more tense stance. 

“Just some of the servants' interactions,” Basil answered as he adjusted his jacket. 

Dawson raised a brow. As he was about to turn to look towards the said rodents, Basil placed a hand on his shoulder. 

“It’s nothing to worry about… just a detail for a different time.” The detective helped lead his friend away with the others, casting his eyes to the rooftops of London around them. As his eyes scanned around, he frowned as he spotted the few dark silhouettes running off. He took in a deep breath and exhaled to let the smoke out. James Wright might now be dead, but that didn’t mean he didn’t leave future problems… 

Problems that the detective, frustratedly as he bit the end of his pipe, would have to wait to come to confront him.


End file.
